


This Shit Is Weird- Excerpt: Guess Who's Inquisitor.

by enby_hawke



Series: All The Hawke Things [1]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition - Fandom
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cyberpunk AU, Inquisitor Hawke, Modern Thedas, also he hates the chantry, lucky hawke is not cis or straight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 11:08:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19945168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enby_hawke/pseuds/enby_hawke
Summary: Lucky Hawke never asked to be Herald. He's going to be surprised when he finds out who's been picked for Inquisitor.





	This Shit Is Weird- Excerpt: Guess Who's Inquisitor.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for taking the time to look .Cyberpunk Modern Thedas where Hawke accidentally becomes Herald of Andraste. Maybe thinking of turning this into a comic but might not be for awhile.

The door opened with a bang and Hawke jerked awake sprawling onto his knees, his hand going for the knife under his pillow. His heart was still pounding in his ears when he saw Josephine wild-eyed followed by several servants. She was dressed in a rich blue dress with golden trim and sleeves. Her sleek black hair was in an elaborate bun framed with a braid. 

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you and you’re still asleep?” she cried, her brown eyes flashing with panic. “ The ceremony starts in 10 minutes!” 

He fell face forward back into his goose-feathered pillow, leaving the knife and settled back into his memory foam mattress. Lazily he pulled the heavy cotton blankets that he kicked off back over him. “I’m skipping it,” he yawned.

“Oh no you aren’t,” Josephine grabbed his hand and started pulling him out of bed, snapping at the servants. Before he could argue his clothes were being stripped off and his curly hair was pulled and corralled in an effort to make him look neater. They slipped leather over his head, his shouts being muffled, and he was promptly strapped into white-steel ceremonial armor with the symbol of a red flaming sword being stabbed through a Chantry eye.

“What the- Stop, wait-” The servants were merciless, scrubbing his face before slathering foundation on his skin. The servants hands were firm, precise, and quick to correct Hawke's wriggling.

“I knew I should have assigned someone to look out for you,” Josephine said as she typed something into her tablet. “Forgive for me saying this, Herald, but you’re absolutely hopeless.”

“Will someone tell me what’s going on? What’s with this fancy get-up? Why is it so important I be there? It’s just a stupid ceremony. I’ll find out who the Inquisitor is later.”

Josephine blinked, surprised and even the servants stopped to exchange shocked glances. “Did no one tell you?”

Tell him what? Hawke was just becoming aware of the murmur of voices overlapping outside. Still half-dressed, he followed the sound to his balcony where he saw an ocean of faces spilling all the way onto the bridge and into the valley. There were mercenaries, Inquisition soldiers, Tal-Vashoth, Dalish, pilgrims, and Chantry folk all clustered together, their voices overlapping and echoing into the mountain. Some were carrying signs like, “Bless the Herald and may the Herald bless us,” and “Our Champion and Inquisitor.” He could even see a reporter talking to his cameraman at the head of the crowd. Leliana was above them all on the staircase, where a podium with a microphone was standing at front. She was dressed in something that almost looked similar to Chantry robes, but instead of a skirt she had black slacks with expensive red heels that popped against the stone. Beside her Cullen in Templar armor stood at attention carrying a rather large greatsword that he held flat in his hands as if to present it. 

“Oh no,” Hawke thought.

“The Herald,” he heard someone shout, and the crowd began to buzz as they caught sight of Hawke. Immediately people began to bring out their cellphones and cameras started flashing. The reporter caught sight of Hawke and pointed where the cameraman turned, trying to film him.

Hawke fled, his heart pounding louder than before and he turned to see Josephine and the servants eying him warily.

“Why did no one run this by me?” Hawke cried.

“We thought it was obvious,” Josephine replied approaching him. She put a reassuring hand on his arm though he could not feel it through the steel plating. “I’ve already taken the liberty of writing your speech so all you have to do is read it. Just smile. Be your confident self and you’ll be fine.”

Hawke seriously doubted that, but he didn’t have time to argue because they were already strapping on his heavy breastplate and marching him outside of his room to the audience that was waiting.

“Josephine,” his voice was high and tight, his white-steel boots dragging down the stairs. “For Maker’s sake don’t put me in front of a camera. Things always go wrong when I go in front of a camera.”

Josephine kept a firm arm around Hawke escorting him. “Everyone gets nervous. Just remember to smile.” 

When they opened the door to the throne room, Cassandra was standing in similar armor but her shoulder pads weren’t as pointy and she didn’t have a ridiculous red cape that made Hawke feel like he was a cheesy superhero that he wore on his underwear. 

“Seeker,” he said clearing his throat.

“Good,” she said shortly taking Hawke’s other side. “Leliana is almost done with her speech.”

They walked past the throne and started marching Hawke to the giant wooden doors already open and he could see Leliana addressing the crowd. 

“I thought you said I was dangerous and incompetent,” Hawke said. “Now you’re just handing me some Chantry title?”

“We will still advise you, just like before,” Josephine nodded, patting Hawke on the shoulder.

“And have you not already been leading the Inquisition?” Cassandra said, with a small wry smile. “I may not always agree with your decisions, but they let us heal the sky. Your determination brought us out of Haven. You are Corypheus’ rival because of what you did and we know it. All of us.”

Leliana glanced into Skyhold and smiled when she saw Hawke approaching. She gestured to the open doors and with her sweet orlesian accent, “It is my great honor to represent a man who needs little introduction. He has faced down the magister who brought the Blight and lived. In this new glorious age, he will lead us to victory as our Inquisitor, Lucky Hawke!”

The crowd roared in approval, deafening applause echoing through the mountain. Hawke was frozen by the sound. He would prefer to be ran through by the Arishok again. Or venture back into the Deep Roads. Hell, he’d take being buried by the avalanche. 

Hawke had become a statue save for the visible shaking. Josephine gently, but firmly escorted him to the podium before slinking back beside Leliana, like she was meant to be there. The applause quieted into silence but Hawke just stared at the sea of people and they all stared back. He could make out Varric in the front row with the rest of his Inquisition friends-Blackwall, Sera, Solas, Iron Bull, Dorian, Cole. Maker, even Madame de Fer was there, though Hawke doubted she was there to support him. 

Varric gave him a cheesy grin and a thumbs up which Sera and Iron Bull followed. Camera’s flashed, and Hawke kept seeing spots as he was blinded.

“Uh…” he tried to jump start his brain. 

“The speech,” Josephine whispered.

Hawke just noticed that there were cards in his hands with neat cursive scrawled across it, but Hawke could only make out a few words. When did she put these in his hand? Why weren’t this typed out? He didn’t know how to read cursive.

Hawke remembered Josephine’s advice to smile so he did, trying not to look terrified as he tried to decipher the speech. The crowd was getting restless, shifting in the uncomfortable silence. Hawke didn’t know what to do. 

“Wow this is a super duper honor,” he began and immediately he could hear Josephine sighing in frustration. He flipped through the cards trying to decipher anything that might give him a clue what to say. “ But uh…I…uh…I guess I should thank some people…Varric of course. You’re still my best friend and I don’t think I’d have made it this far without you.” He made a mock fist bump which Varric returned. “Ambassador Montilyet, thanks for arranging such an event. It…uh…I really don’t have the words…”

He looked around, the crowd swirling and he realized he was dizzy. He steadied himself on the podium and for a moment he thought he might faint in front of everyone. Then what would the headline be? He needed to come up with the rest of his speech, but his thoughts escaped him before they could fully form. He found himself going silent again, his panic rising and he thought he would run off stage.

Leliana cleared her throat, trying to hurry Hawke along but his throat was closing up.

“Say something,” he thought. “Anything.”

“I don’t want the job,” he blurted out. Not that. 

The crowd gasped in unison, and cameras started flashing more and beyond the buzzing crowd, Sera’s machine gun giggle echoed through the air.

Immediately Cassandra jerked Hawke by the shoulder. “You said it was your duty to defeat Corypheus.”

“And I definitely will. On board. 100 percent. But why me? Why not literally anyone else?” Hawke shrugged sheepishly. He knew he should shut up, that this was already going terribly wrong, but his mouth wouldn’t stop running.

“You have the Maker’s blessing! You’re the Herald of Andraste!” 

“Debatedly.”

Leliana tried to come between them. “Perhaps we should move this discussion to a more private location.”

“What for? So you can get all shadowy and intimidate me into the job?” 

“Hawke-” Leliana said warningly.

“I’ll help defeat Corypheus, seal rifts, drag me to the ass end of Thedas, but for fuck’s sake don’t make me into some kind of glorified Chantry puppet.”

A sickening thud cracked through the air as Cassandra’s gauntleted fist smashed into Hawke’s face, soundly knocking him unconscious. He crumpled to the floor with a thud, his nose and mouth bleeding. "Oooo" hissed a chorus of people and cameras flashed like strobe lights.

Above the sound of the buzzing crowd, Varric started clapping, alone. “Our Inquisitor, everyone.”


End file.
